


Firstborn

by bythunder



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fluff, robb and jeyne live happily ever after the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2020-09-28 00:26:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20416833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bythunder/pseuds/bythunder
Summary: The king needs an heir, and the queen delivers





	Firstborn

When Jeyne misses her moonblood, the first she’s missed since her wedding, she tries desperately not to get her hopes too high. She knows well enough that the early moons of a pregnancy are delicate, that just because the seed has taken root doesn’t mean for sure that it will grow. However, she cannot stop herself from hoping. She and Robb longed for this child, not only for themselves, but for the kingdom of the North and the Riverlands as well. Robb needed an heir. With the loss of his brothers, the line of succession fell to his sister Sansa. However, with her held hostage by the Crown, married off to a Lannister… No, Sansa could not succeed Robb. Which left them with few other options. They  _ needed _ this babe. 

Fortune favors them, it seems, as three full moons come and go without issue. Maester Vyman says both mother and babe are healthy. She has him check half a dozen times to be sure before she tells Robb. She’s hated keeping this secret from him, her husband, but with the war, he was under enough stress as it, without being concerned over her. She wouldn’t risk adding a miscarriage to his burdens.

Robb is overjoyed when she shares the news, happier than she’s ever seen him. He takes her in his arms and kisses her sweetly, endlessly, and he cannot keep the smile off his face. He cannot even be upset that she did not tell him sooner. “We will win this war, my love,” he promises as he presses his hand against the slight swell of her belly. “I will win this war. Then you and I shall take our son home. To Winterfell.”

_ Our son.  _ The Crown Prince of the North. Robb’s heir. She knows there is no way of truly knowing, but Mother says she’s carrying low and Lady Catelyn comments on the luster of her hair, all signs pointing towards a boy, or so they say anyway. And Jeyne sees no reason not to believe it. She spends the remaining moons of her pregnancy preparing herself for the arrival of little Eddard, sewing clothes and blankets for the babe. It was a distraction, anything to keep her mind from lingering on Robb and the war. Where he was, who was fighting, was he winning, was he injured? The maester said too much worry was bad for the babe, so instead, she filled her idle time embroidering direwolves on every scrap of fabric she could get her fingers on. By the time she took to the birthing bed, she had made more clothes than one child could ever wear. 

The birth itself came on suddenly and was over quickly. One moment she was breaking her fast with Mother and Eleyna, and the next, the maester was placing a squalling babe in her arms. A beautiful babe with Robb’s auburn curls and her own brown eyes. “Oh!” Jeyne cries as she cradles the babe to her breast. “She is so lovely.”


End file.
